Table for Two
by boonadducious
Summary: House's latest attempt to gain more meaning in his life could make his best friend finally lose himself in his grief. House/Wilson friendship; House/Cate Milton.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Table for Two**

**Author: Boonadducious**

**Pairings: House/OMC; House/Wilson friendship**

**Spoilers: Season 4, particularly "Frozen" and "Wilson's Heart"**

**Disclaimer #1: I don't own these characters. David Shore, Universal and Fox do. I'm just taking them on a playdate.  
**

**Disclaimer #2: The main title and all of the titles of the chapters come from the lyrics of songs by Caedmon's Call or Derek Webb. If you would like specifics, feel free to PM me.**

**Summary: House's latest attempt at meaning in life might cause his best friend to lose himself in his grief.**

**A/N: After two betas bailed on me, I finally decided to go it alone. All mistakes are mine. **

oOoOo

Chapter One: I Will Mow Your Lawn, If you Tell Me What I'm Doing Wrong

"Stop taking Vitamin C."

The patient before him gawked, almost as if he had just told her there was a tape worm crawling out of her ear. House braced himself and wondered what form her protest would take. He was thinking #4B which basically said that there was no way taking vitamins could make you sick, because they're good for you.

"Vitamins can't make you sick," the woman, who looked like she was teetering on the edge of the menopause cliff, said after having her mouth agape for at least fifteen seconds. "All five of my sons and two of my daughters are sick as a dogs and I have a big presentation coming up, and…"

House drowned out the rest of her little diatribe and put the protest down as #4C instead. It was 4B plus a little bit of disease paranoia thrown in.

"Too much of anything is bad for you," House said once the dead air indicated she was finished. "Even too much water, or too many children."

"Excuse me?" the woman replied.

"No need for a prescription," House said, ignoring her. "Just throw those pesky little buggers into the river you'll be fine."

"Are you suggesting I throw my children…"

"Your pills," House reiterated, pronouncing his words carefully. "Even though doing both _would _have the best results."

Before the screams could hit his ears, House was up and out of the room.

"2:02, Dr. House checks out," House said to the head nurse as he slapped the used file onto the counter. He had missed saying that. He had not missed clinic duty. No way in hell that would be possible. However, the pleasure from Nurse Brenda's scowl was always enough to bring a smile to his face. It was 

goods to be back in full form again. Between the nursing from Cuddy and the actual support from the hospital staff, life was starting to give him cavities. It was like the universe was now back in balance again. Of course, he was not happy, but was he ever? Life had taken it's natural course. What he had gone through had meant nothing.

"House!"

Oh great, House thought. He could practically feel the sting in his gums as his boss approached. He was hoping for a little PMS to be plaguing her today, just so that the concern would not remind him of what he had lost when she left. Sure, it was nice to be known as the bastard again and not the man who had risked his life to save Dr. Wilson's girlfriend. However, there was a small part of him that fell when Cuddy left his apartment. He felt like someone cared for him without an agenda in mind. Despite enjoyment of the feeling, he knew for a fact nothing romantic between him and Cuddy would work out. They would tear each other apart limb for limb. Wilson would come in one day to find a bloody stain on the floor and a few strands of what used to be their clothes.

"House!" Cuddy called again, closer this time. House knew it was fruitless to outrun her now that she was gaining on him, so he simply stopped and prayed for a short conversation.

"I finished my clinic hours, Mommy," House said after turning around and resting both hand on his cane.

Cuddy sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, all two of them. What an accomplishment." She said with no inflection in her voice.

House tried to hold back a smile. Things _were_ started to get back to normal.

"That's not why I'm here."

Or not.

"I was just checking to see how you were doing."

"I'm no different than I was an hour ago when you asked me last."

"Brenda noticed that you were limping heavier than usual."

"So, you have Evil Nurse Brenda keeping tabs on me. Fantastic. I've always wanted to relive my preschool years."

"House," Cuddy said, pleading. "It's been three months, and…"

"Things are getting back to normal. That's how it should be, right?"

"Things are _not _getting back to normal, House. You might be trying to force them there by being snarky, but your will alone is not going to change things. I can tell you've changed. It's pretty damn obvious Wilson's changed."

"Wilson's not here."

"And so he doesn't matter? Great logic, House."

House grunted, and walked a little closer to Cuddy.

"I'm fine. If you want me to stay that way, let me go home."

Cuddy groaned, knowing that once again, her attempts at helping this man would bear no fruit.

"Go up to your office and look for a case," Cuddy said, defeated. "There are about five files on your desk."

House could not bring himself to feel satisfied as he watched the woman walk away. She really did care about him. He could not imagine why, but she did. He could not help thinking that she was right, that he was trying to force things into normalcy. It was not logical, which was why he could not imagine doing it.

House massaged his temples and tried to chase away the introspective thoughts. He hated this. Cognitive Psychology was not a valid science. Of course, if that was the case, why was he thinking about it so much? He really did need a case.

As House walked down the halls of the fourth floor, he could not help be hold a ritualistic pause in front of the big brown door down the small corridor with the silver letters "James Wilson M.D." plastered on. The office behind the door had been empty for almost a week. After Cuddy had rejected his resignation, she forced Wilson to take two weeks off to think things over. He took those weeks to borrow his brother's camper and drive out to the Colorado Rockies to "find himself."

"What are you hoping for?" House said to Wilson when he made his announcement. "Some sort of spiritual revival? Everyone who goes out into the mountains sees God, and then they come back to real life and remember…"

"House," Wilson interrupted. "I'm not going out there to 'see God.' I…I need to get away for a while. I…I need to know that…I'm not losing myself in my grief."

House was silent for a few moments, a little confused at Wilson's worry. Losing himself in his grief? The man was back to work within a week of Amber's death. He was depressed, but functioning. Sure, he was mad at House for about a month, but he eventually came to his senses and realized that blaming House was not only irrational, but it would not bring Amber back. Ever since then, Wilson was getting back to normal, or at least his version of normal.

"You're doing fine," the older man finally replied.

"Says you, who wouldn't know emotions if they beat you up in broad daylight."

That, along with Wilson quickly leaving the room, had ended the conversation. House did not think he was imagining that this was probably the shortest conversation they had ever had. Wilson had never 

stormed out of his presence before, particularly when they were in his own office. To House's surprise, the man was gone the next day.

Ever since then, House had felt rather lonely, but he was dealing. He had several interesting cases, and his new team was getting more fun to play with day-by-day. Well, two-thirds of them anyway. Thirteen was becoming a bigger wet blanket than Cameron. All of his bisexual jokes were going to waste because he never seemed to get a reaction out of her these days. He figured she finally did the test on herself, and it came back with bad results. Either that, or she had been sleeping with Amber. Even though he chose to believe the latter at first, he had to go back to the former pretty quickly. Having fantasies involving a dead girl, particularly Wilson's dead girl, were far too disturbing, even for his tastes. He might be getting back on track with his caustic ways, but there were some lines that he could not cross.

When House finally got back to his office, he found his team was gone, and his white board clean. He really needed another case soon. He was starting to get antsy. All of these weeks of recovery and sulking had made him full of energy that needed to be released. He played his new DS for about fifteen minutes before he was pulled out of his point-winning streak by a voice.

"Dr. House?"

The sound of his name caught his attention. The voice that uttered it stirred something unidentifiable within him. He knew it was a woman, which was one explanation, but there was something else. Something familiar. His subconscious seemed to be associating this person with both bad and good feelings. Not very strong feelings, like those with Stacy, but feelings nonetheless.

He looked up and saw a familiar face. One that he had only seen over a TV or computer screen. In that setting, it was almost like he was talking to a phantom, or a mirage. A mirage that happened to have fat emboli shutting down her kidneys and putting her into comas. Now that she was here in front of him, he finally began to accept that she was real. It was illogical to believe otherwise, but part of him knew that him actually falling for someone meant there had to be a catch somewhere in the equation.

"Cate?" House asked, surprised and slightly embarrassed that his mouth was as dry as it was.

The auburn-haired woman who had been peeking her way through the door at that point, made her way into the office. House gulped as to disguise his speechlessness. He honestly thought he would never see this person again.

"Back from Santa's playground so soon?" House finally said.

"I believe that's the _North_ Pole," Cate replied, planting herself in the middle of the room with her hands in her pockets.

"I heard he has a summer place down south," House replied. He was beginning to look over his former patient and noticed that there was little different about her. She had gotten a haircut, but not a drastic one. She had more make-up on. Obviously, she looked less sick. Of course, that could be said for all of his patients. "When did you get back?"

"About a week ago," Cate sighed. "It's nice to be back in scalding summer heat again. Anyway, I just wanted to drop by and…thank you in person for saving my life."

House snorted. "_I _didn't save your life. It was…Crutch-Boy who did the life-saving maneuvers, and it was a member of my team that suggested the broken toe." House silently said that if it were not for me caring about you, I would have had a much bigger hand in saving you than I did.

"You played a bigger role than you let on," Cate said, smiling. "Also…"

"You heard about the bus crash," House completed after Cate paused for a few seconds. He needed to remember that underneath the exterior, this woman was still a psychiatrist.

"Yeah," Cate uttered, now turning her eyes toward the shelf. "I just …wanted to see if you were okay. I mean, what happened to Dr. Wilson was horrible, but witnessing it must have been…"

"Where did you hear?" House said in monotone.

Sensing his growing trepidation with this conversation, Cate decided to tread carefully. "You do realize that this hospital is worse than a high school, right? The only exciting things that ever happen are with you and sometimes Dr. Wilson."

"Cuddy told you."

Cate sighed in defeat. "I wanted the truth. I made her tell me."

"Fair enough," House said to Cate's surprise. "I would have done the same thing. By the way, how is Crutch-Boy?"

Cate knew House was attempting to change the subject, which was an indication that he was not okay. Still, she decided to humor him.

"_Sean's_ leg got worse, so he left. We kept in touch for a while but then…he ran into an old high school girlfriend, and…"

"He dumped you," House finished. Typical man, he thought to himself. They would do anything for love, including drink urine. However, when it came to remaining faithful, forget it. Of course, he did not see himself as any better, but still.

Cate smiled and slid into the small chair in front of House's desk. "I'm actually not surprised he fell in love me, to be honest. I was one of two women on that entire base, and the other girl had a husband and kid back home."

"That's never stopped me," House said before he could stop himself. Thankfully, Cate laughed. Hopefully she would never know that he actually did pursue someone that was married. House decided to continue when Cate did not. "So, you asked your questions, got your answers, and yet you're still here."

"Yeah," Cate said, nodding. "I was…also going to ask if you were free for dinner tonight."

House's stomach suddenly did a back-flip. He had not had that sensation since Stacy had accepted his dinner request all those years ago. He was wondering why his body was acting in such a way. He had long been over this woman whom he had fallen in love with for a span of a day. Okay, love was maybe a strong word, but he did have some strong feelings toward the woman for a while. After he saw her and Sean embrace, he did what he always did: he convinced himself that nothing would happen, and if it did, it would end badly. Things had changed since then.

There was still a voice in the back of his mind telling him he could not let her close, but there was a stronger voice that was telling him that he was lonely, and miserable, and unwilling to be either. Maybe this was his chance to change those things. He had not let anything significant in his life change him. Maybe he should. House immediately stopped this train of thought when he told himself that it was just dinner between friends, nothing else. If that was the case though, then why was he not running screaming from this? He hated social interaction. Geeze, the things manhood did to him.

"Is this like a date?" House asked once he could clear his brain enough to use his mouth.

"Do you want it to be?" Cate said, smiling when she saw House's face taking a red tint. "I mean, I'm on the market, and from what I hear, you are, too. I'm too far removed from the break-up for this to be a rebound date. Then again, I'll be treating, so you could see it as a thank you for the whole 'saving my life' thing. Or you could see it as a 'getting to know your colleague' thing."

"Or a 'therapy session' thing'."

Cate's face fell a little as she took in House statement, but she quickly bounced back.

"Don't think this is the first time I've got that question. I promise there will be no mention of anything related to whatever problems you might have either related or unrelated to the bus crash. I promise." Cate held up two fingers as a way to seal the deal.

At this point, House was staring at the desk, not knowing what to do. He thought back to those moments on the bus with Amber. He had told her that he didn't want to be miserable, and he didn't want Wilson to hate him. She responded that we could not always get what we wanted, a favorite mantra of his. He then heard something in his head, a voice. It was faint, but it coursed through his entire being. It felt so…real. It was that sensation that convinced him this was not a dream.

"You have to stay, Greg," it had said. "You have to stay. They need you."

That was all he heard, but that was enough. He did not know why, but it was enough.

"Where and when?" House said before he could stop himself.

Cate's smile grew a little wider. "I'll treat you to my favorite Thai place in town. I have to teach a class at four, so I'll pick you up from your office around six."

"Sounds good," House replied.

"See you then," Cate said as she got up to leave. Right when she was halfway between the desk and the door, she stopped, suddenly realizing there was something else she had to ask him.

"Is it true you have a motorcycle?"

House was a little surprised by the question, but nodded.

Cate bit her lip in order to hide her excitement. "Did you…drive it to work by chance?"

A tiny smile made its way up House's face. Today was actually the first time he had ridden his motorcycle to work since his head injury. He was very glad now that he decided to ignore his doctor's advice.

"Yes, I did," House replied.

"Do you have an extra helmet?"

"Of course. What kind of driver do you think I am?"

"Oh, the worst kind," Cate said sarcastically. "Can we take that to dinner?"

Okay, House officially loved this woman. "Do you have to ask?"

Cate punched the air, bringing House a good amount of amusement. "Do you know how much I've always wanted to ride a motorcycle?"

"I have an idea," House said.

"Alright, I'll see you at six," she said, now turning to leave.

"Cate," House called, a sudden thought running through his head.

Cate was halfway out the door when she turned and raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

"Um…I just thought I would warn you…" House was really starting to regret this, but he knew he should at least warn this chick what she was in for. She definitely was not Cameron, which was both a blessing and a curse. For one thing, House did not know for a fact she had other motives in liking him, but she also was not used to his personality.

"I…am not the best dinner date in the world. I have yet to have a one-on-one dinner date go well, at least with someone other than Wilson or a movie."

Cate nodded. House was thinking that she was simply was dismissing his self-criticism as exaggeration. She really had no idea.

"I'll tell you what," Cate said "I have had some pretty crappy dinner dates in my life, but none of them gave me the courtesy of warning me that they would be so. Because you did, I'll give you a couple do-overs. How does that sound?"

She was patronizing him, but not so bad as to offend him. Just bad enough for him to feel sorry for her. She really had no idea what she was getting into.

"Okay," he said, keeping his thoughts to himself. "Deal."

Cate hurried off right after that, and House was still in awe that this woman was actually choosing to spend time with him. She worked here. She had to have heard about his personality, and yet here she was, asking him to dinner. She was probably trying to make him one of her shrink cases, except all of the psychiatrists he knew were never interested in actually talking to people about their problems. They would much rather just give them a prescription for Prozac and get on with their lives. Therapists or psychologists were the ones that enjoyed talking.

House knew he had to stop this thinking. His reasoning for actually accepting the date was still valid. There had to be a reason for him to get off the bus. He gave up on the search for meaning after he was shot, but now he seemed to be getting another chance. Was Cate like the Ketamine treatment? Oh boy. Best not to go there. House finally decided to just wait until dinner was over to make any judgments. This was going to be a _very _long day.

oOoOo

Wilson could not bring himself to go to sleep. The air was brisk at night here in the mountains, but he did not care at this moment. All he saw were stars. For the first time he could see entire constellations without having to squint to identify them. He could actually see the white expanse that was the Milky Way, a sight that had eluded him until now. In the distance were the shadowy outlines of mountains, whose majesty could be clearly identified in the daylight. The mood was full that night, which was causing the land beneath to be illuminated with a bluish glow. There was nothing man-made about this beauty. Except for the occasional orange glow from nearby campfires, this land was unspoiled.

His neck would be so sore in the morning after leaning almost perpendicular to his body for all of these hours. Sitting in an old beach chair could not have been good for his back either. However, this was what he came for, and a little pain was worth it. Of course, Wilson was still uneasy. This trip had a much greater purpose than just becoming one with nature. So far, it looked like that purpose was going to go unfulfilled.

He was going to be out here for a few more days, and then he would have to head home. Cuddy said that he had at least two weeks, and would gladly give him more, but Wilson did not want it. He had patients. He had responsibilities. He realized very soon that this entire resignation thing was a dumb idea. His plan was basically to stop working, travel by himself for a couple of years, and then work to find a new career where there was not so much death. Halfway through Kentucky, he began to wonder what kind of mid-life crisis he was going through when he hatched such a scheme. He had worked hard to get where he was, and throwing it all away would be stupid. Besides, he had to keep working, otherwise his thoughts would drift back to her, and his serious problem.

Wilson had seen some of the most beautiful scenery in the world while he was here, and yet the one thing he came to get rid of would not go away. Ever since Amber's death, there seemed to be a knot in the pit of his stomach, and tightness in his entire body. There was something welling up there, and it always seemed to get larger when he saw House, or when he got agitated, or when he saw something that reminded him of Amber. He had gone on this trip to remind himself that there were good things in the world despite what crap happened in life. Everything that was truly beautiful and perfect in this world came from nature (God's creation, if you will) and all ugly things seemed to come from human hands. Despite this, House thought that the former was the accident.

The problem was that Wilson had known these things since his boyhood which led to his conclusion that he had really learned nothing new on his journey. On top of that, this trip had done nothing for this knot. It was starting to grow, and Wilson was afraid of what it might turn into. A genuine health problem, or mental illness, or worse. They did not exactly have "tight grief-induced knots" in his medical textbooks, so the outlook was a complete mystery, and that scared the hell out of him.

He certainly had changed. His family and colleagues had told him so, and the resignation idea was only further proof. Also, his time with House was becoming more of an obligation than a time he looked forward to. He felt that maybe if he spent enough time with the man, then he would begin to get those same good feelings he got before when they were together. However, as time went on, all House did was make his body tighter.

The cold air was finally beginning to cut through the throw Wilson had wrapped around himself. He figured it was time to go inside the camper and get to sleep. He was going on a long hike tomorrow and he needed his rest. Wilson took one last look at the stars before heading into the small sanctuary. He took a glance over to the campsite closest to him and saw a couple huddled together underneath a thick quilt simply stargazing. They looked so…happy.

Wilson hurried into the camper, because he knew the knot within him was getting ready to explode.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who are reading and reviewing. Reviews are not for feeding my ego. They are helpful in motivating my to write. It helps when you know people are reading.

This will be a very fluffy and still chapter. Things will really start to move in the next chapter.

This might actually be the last chapter in at least a week, because I'm going back home to Florida after spending the summer in CO, and right after that I have to move into my new apartment and start school. I have the next chapter written, but I like to have at least the next chapter done before posting. In the meantime, I will probably be posting this on Live Journal. Your patience is greatly appreciated!!

Chapter 2: Please Say Yes Quick, 'Cause the Sun's Goin' Down

House did not leave his office since Cate left, except twice to go to the bathroom and once to go get a candy bar. He needed to think and he always felt the best place to do that was his office.

He was ashamed that he was acting like he was thirteen again and Susie Carmichael just asked him to the eighth grade dance. This was definitely not like it was with Cameron. He was not expecting anything to come from that night, and, besides a healthy amount of lust, he had no real feelings for the woman. Now, he was going out with a woman who he had fallen for pretty much right away. He buried his caring once Sean popped her toe back into place, as well as when he realized the blunder was due to his feelings. He thought that had been the end of it, but once she had walked into his office, those initial sensations rushed back like a tidal wave.

Both of the reasons for repressing his attraction were now moot. She was no longer his patient, and Sean was out of the equation. Also, the other lesser reason that came from his doubt that she would ever want to pursue anything were squashed when she all but asked him out. He knew pity parties when he saw them, and this was not one. She was taking a genuine interest in him. The _real _him, not just the disabled him.

Every time his mind tried to tell him otherwise, he was reminded her statement all those months ago that she did not think he needed fixing. That was the first time he had heard that…_ever. _And from a psychiatrist no less. He really did not have many reasons to believe that this was a farce that would show its ugly face eventually. Who knows, it still could be, but right now, he saw no reason that this situation was any more than what it appeared to be on the surface. He was going out on a date with a woman that he liked who also liked him. House was finding that extremely hard to believe, and was very tempted to just call the whole thing off. However, he remembered his thinking from earlier, and restrained himself from taking the easy way out.

Cate arrived at his office right on time, and had changed out of her work suit into a white blouse and black dress-pants. It made House feel a little foolish for being too lost in his thoughts to go home and change, but Cate insisted she was only wearing the outfit because it was a spare she kept stashed in her trunk in case of emergencies.

"Besides," she had said. "I feel silly wearing a business suit to dinner. It would make it feel like I'm proposing to buy your condo complex."

House nodded and dug his extra helmet out of the bottom drawer of his cabinet. That thing had not seen the light of day for quite some time. For a while he even forgot why he had it. However, times like this made him remember.

"Think fast," he said before throwing the helmet in Cate's direction. She caught it with ease before nodding her head down the hall to indicate they needed to get going.

Cate directed him to her favorite Thai place in downtown Princeton. Of course, it turned out to be his favorite place, too. Go figure. House pulled the motorcycle into one of the two handicapped spaces they had in the entire place, before they went in and took a seat.

In between the arrival of their drinks and the arrival of their food, they engaged in mostly what-have-you-been-doing-since-I-saw-you-last conversation. House discussed a few of his more interesting cases, 

and Cate gave the details on some of the research that the team in Antarctica was conducting while she was there. Once their food arrived, House decided that he needed to get brave; otherwise this entire song and dance would go nowhere.

"Alright, let's get to business."

"Business?" Cate asked, raising her eyebrows. "Should I be scared right now?"

"Well, this is obviously a date, so we need to start asking some tough questions."

"Okay, shoot."

"So far, in your limited knowledge of all things Greg House, what do you think about me?"

Cate did not hesitate with her answer. "You remind me of some sort of twisted Atticus Finch."

House raised his eyebrows, a little confused at the reference.

"You've…never read _To Kill A Mockingbird_?"

House shrugged. "I've read it, but it was a long time ago. I forgot most of it. It's pretty much a high school summer reading book anyway. No one I know ever remembers those kind of books."

"Well, I don't think it's a 'summer reading book.' It's a classic. It's a tale of the triumph of the human spirit, and how one humble person can make all of the difference in the world. Atticus did what he did because he knew it was right, and that fact alone made him one of the greatest heroes in literature."

"If I recall, the man he was defending in the book died at the end as a convicted rapist."

Cate furrowed her brow at that statement. "You remembered Tom Robinson died, but you forgot who Atticus Finch was. I don't know whether to be really intrigued or really sad."

"Okay, Miss Reading Rainbow, what are _you _reading now?" House asked, attempting to take the focus off him.

Cate sighed. "You'll laugh."

"Try me."

Cate propped her chin on her arm and said, "_Twilight_."

"Wow," House replied. "I knew you were a girl, but I didn't know you were that much of one."

"Let's just say I'm reading up on having relationships with difficult people."

House let out a laugh, but paused when he began to take in the implications of what she just said.

"It was a joke, Greg," Cate said.

House looked up and quickly recovered. "I knew that. Do I look like a guy who's insulted by being called difficult? Compared to other things I've been called, that's a glowing compliment."

"It was the relationship part that scared you," Cate said as more of a statement than a question.

Now it was House's turn to sigh. "You're psychoanalyzing me."

Cate gave the man an apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's hard to turn it off."

"I'd imagine. I just thought I'd stop you before you started talking about my feelings toward my mother."

"Greg, you do realize that Freud has basically been considered a quack in the psychological community for about half a century, right? And to avoid future ridicule, Kinsey and Locke are not that close behind."

"Sorry, my last issue of _Psychology Today_ got lost in the mail."

"Also, you're treating me like a psychologist. I'm a psychiatrist. I went to medical school. My expertise is using medical treatments for mental conditions."

"So instead of feeding me platitudes, you'll feed me Prozac."

Cate laughed. "I'm a little surprised you didn't know this stuff already."

"Oh I do, but I have far too many therapist jokes in my repertoire to let them go to waste. That Prozac one, I came up with it when I first started working for the hospital. Since I tend to avoid psychobabblers like the plague, it probably would have rotted."

Amused, Cate nodded and took the finishing bite her food before saying, "I really am enjoying myself, Greg. You're a better dinner date than you think you are."

House nodded in acknowledgement. He was having a good time, too, but was prevented from admitting it. "So I guess there will be no need for a do-over, huh?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Cate said before the waiter came with their check. She flipped open the leather folder and glanced at the bill before saying, "I think we should plan something else right now."

House suddenly started to fidget. He hoped she would not notice. This was not exactly his strong suit. He and Stacy went on exactly one awful date before abandoning the whole concept and sticking with hot sex with some conversation in between. Cate did not seem like the kind of woman who would go for that. Of course, you never did know these days, but secure women like Cate were usually very straightforward. What you saw was what you got. These were usually the same people who liked dates.

"Greg?" Cate asked, becoming concerned.

"I'm not a huge one for dates," House finally said, practically having to dig his fingernails into his palm so he could admit it. "I'm more of a…I'm a homey kind of guy."

"Well, the first part you already made clear," Cate said. "But I think I'm just starting to get how true that is."

Was it that obvious? House suddenly wanted to sink into his chair and disappear. This was exactly why he hated dates. No matter what happened, you were always eventually going to lay yourself out on a platter.

"For the record, I did mean what I said. You are not that terrible at this."

"You caught me on a good day," House replied. "I'm not really back to myself yet since…you know. I mean, I'm getting there, but…"

"I get it," Cate said. "On the other hand, from my colleagues from the teaching hospital I talk to, you seemed to be back to your old self pretty quick."

"The fact that I'm here is proof that they don't know what they're talking about."

Cate tilted her head and furrowed her brow.

House took the hint and explained himself. "I don't go on dates. I don't pursue relationships unless I have a healthy amount of Zoloft in my system." House began to notice his words were beginning to spill out of him. He stopped himself before he could go any further, but he was sure Cate had gotten the point. She was dealing with "House-Lite" now. She would probably change her mind when she finally met "House Classic."

"Look, Greg, once upon a time I did try and go more the therapist route when it came to patients. I have no idea how this happened, but most of the male patients I talked to were scared shitless at one time or another by the concept of a 'relationship.' They were more comfortable pursuing sex. I could tell it was mostly because they think they have to thanks to our society, but that's beside the point."

"Turn it off, Cate."

"I'm not analyzing you, Greg. I just thought you should know that you're not alone, and that I'm used to dealing with it."

"For my sanity's sake," House said, staring at an invisible spot on the tablecloth. "Please don't mention that again."

Cate sighed. "Fine. I'm a little awkward at this, too, as you can probably tell."

House nodded. She was clearly recovering from being alone on a base for who-knows-how-long. She was doing a whole lot better than he was, but she did seem very wide-eyed about the world around her. He would be, too if he were away from civilization as long as she was. Then again, despite that fact that she was awkward, she had an excuse. He did not. He was not looking forward to the day when her awkwardness wore off, his remained, and she realized it would not go away.

"So, you say you're more of a horny type of guy."

House choked on his water and stared at the woman in disbelief.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you misspoke before." Cate wore a mischievous grin as she signed for the credit card.

House shook his head in astonishment. This was not just going to be a chance a companionship. This might just be very interesting, at least while it lasted.

oOoOo

House and Cate did meet again, this time for dinner at House's favorite Italian place. It was another success according to Cate, and another aversion of the inevitable according to House. Still, his assumptions were not enough to get House to call off whatever was happening. There was still a part of him that did want companionship, preferably of a sexual nature. He figured that this part of him was more noticeable since Wilson left. Even before that, House had noticed a void. Wilson was far more distant, and he was getting the idea that the other man was only staying in this relationship out of guilt rather than actual desire to keep the friendship going.

When they got back to his place, Cate made the first move in planting a kiss on House's lips. House felt his body react accordingly as he grabbed onto her arms and slipped his tongue into her waiting mouth. They moved the action inside to the couch where they stayed for another hour. House was surprised that it took him as long to work at the buttons on her blouse. He was slightly shocked when Cate grabbed at his hands to stop him from going any further.

This act stopped their make-out session abruptly. House stared at the woman in confusion.

"Not yet, Greg," Cate said, gasping for breath. "I'm not going to jump into bed after two dates."

House was still speechless and panting, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"Oh don't be so disappointed, Greg. I still like you. I just don't have sex flippantly."

House still wore the bewildered look on his face as he sat there straddled over the other woman.

"Greg, please don't make this awkward."

"I'm not," House finally said. "I mean, I don't want to, I've just…"

"Never been made to wait before?"

House shook his head. "No, I've been made to wait…when I was in high school."

Cate raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "You are such a man. You're lucky I don't take things too personally. Otherwise your ass would be on the floor. Don't ridicule me for respecting myself."

House sighed as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "I'm not ridiculing you, I just…I guess my taste in women differs from your taste in men."

Cate nodded and gave the man a quick kiss on the lips. "That's not necessarily true, but it's fine. This is the second date. Things slide much easier by."

"Wow," House said. "You have everything figured out, don't you?"

Cate shrugged. "I _am _a psychiatrist. Plus, I was a little bit of a man-eater when I was younger. I can pretty much map these things out."

House said a silent "oh" before nodding his head.

Cate gave him a playful punch in the arm. "That is not why I'm waiting, jackass."

"Hey, hey, easy," House said, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Your eyes said it all."

They both ended up laughing together before sighing and letting silence carry for a short time.

"Well, I'm officially out of the make-out mood," House said, slumping backwards on the couch.

"We could watch TV," Cate suggested, mimicking House's move. "I'm not quite ready to leave yet."

"Okay, cool," House said, stopping short of admitting that he did not want her to leave either. He grabbed the remote and made his way to the safest date channel he could think of: The Weather Channel.

When he stopped there, Cate looked at the man like he had grown an extra head before grabbing the remote away from him.

"You have got to be joking," Cate said before she changed to The Discovery Channel. The _Planet Earth _documentary was on, and they were now panning over the plains of Africa.

"Oh my God, this is my favorite show of all time," Cate said as she nestled her body beside House's.

House looked down at the head lying in the crook of his neck but quickly turned his attention back to the TV. He had just realized that this had been the first time in more than seven years that he had actually had a woman this close to him. At least one who was not kissing him or getting him laid.

"I've never seen it," House said in monotone, too nervous to look anywhere else other than the animals on screen.

"Shocker," Cate said sarcastically. "Don't worry, you'll like it."

House doubted that, but he did not put up a protest. He followed his instincts and draped his arm around the woman next to him as they watched the first commercial break take over the beautiful scenes of nature.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay, like I said in the last chapter, I have been moving cross-country for the past couple weeks. I have also been starting classes and leading a group of Freshmen during our Welcome Week. Not to mention having to deal with Tropical Storm Fay. Needless to say, writing was not a priority. However, I'm back and I am getting the next couple of chapters written as we speak. Please continue to let me know how I am doing. Like I said, this is not about stroking my ego, and I am still trying to find a beta. Okay, I'm done. Go forth and read!! :)

Chapter 3: There Are Days I Don't Believe the Words I Say

It was good to be home. It was nice to have familiar things once again within reach. It had only been two weeks, but Wilson was already starting to get sick of canned foods and was really craving a burger from McDonalds. Considering his general hatred for fast food, he knew he must have really missed civilization.

The problem was, however, that familiarity ended when he reached his front door.

He could not bring himself to stay in Amber's condo after she died, and going back to a hotel made his heart sink, so Wilson finally took the initiative to get an apartment. The real estate market was quite ridiculous when he first left Grace's place, so he was not surprised that he decided not to bother and go into a hotel. Looking back, he was wondering if he had some sort of morbid desire to be in such a sterilized, cookie-cutter environment all the time. He stayed there for more than a year! There was something seriously wrong with that. Needless to say, he was feeling much more content now that he had secured his own place. It actually gave him confidence in his mental state despite his nagging problem.

This time around, he found an apartment quickly. It was spacious and in one of the nicer parts of Princeton. It was also five minutes from the hospital, which was a definite plus. It was also on the sixth floor, and all the way down the hall from the elevator. When moving in, he realized that House would hate this place, but for some reason he did not care.

He promptly moved all of his things in from Amber's vacated abode and got what was left of his furniture out or storage so that the place could feel like home. Right now, though, it felt worse than the hotel. There were boxes lining the bare, white walls, and the various pieces of furniture were still in the same spots the movers had placed them in. Wilson knew he had to get to work on this place, soon. It was not like he had time before, since he moved in days before he left on his journey of self-discovery.

Wilson collapsed onto the couch and stared at the blank television screen before him. He never watched TV anymore, except for the occasional telanovella. That was another thing he had noticed changed. He remembered a time when he would watch TV with House until his eyes threatened to burn, and it was never a burden. It was a happy time, or at least as happy as the two of them could get. Now, the idea of watching TV made him feel useless and lazy. He needed to go out and actually do something as opposed to watching other people do it on a small tube.

Worse, he was beginning to make judgments in his head about those who did watch TV. Any TV. Every time he passed a doctor or a nurse watching anything other than the news in their staff lounge, Wilson just wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shout at them that they were wasting their life. He never did, thankfully, and he hoped that such a desire would be one of the things his trip destroyed. Since it had not been tested, he could not be sure of such a thing, but nothing else had gone away so far, so there was no reason this would have.

Wilson's fingers were sliding along his thighs as heaviness began to creep into his eyes. He was very tired, particularly because he had been driving for almost 24 hours straight. He knew he would have to call Michael and let him know that the camper is back safe and sound, but right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He did have work the next day, and being well rested so that the beast within him (a term he had been using for his knot lately) made him do something he did not want to do.

Dragging himself the fifty feet to the bedroom seemed like far too much work, so he just decided to sleep on the couch. He threw off his jeans before wrapping a throw around himself and drifting off to sleep.

Two hours later, he woke with a start. This was not the first this had happened since Amber died, but he usually did not remember what had brought him to such a spot. This time, however, he did.

He was still in Colorado, in his lawn chair, sitting by a lake. A beautiful landscape began to change when birds started to fall from the sky, slowly at first, but then with more frequency. They plopped into the lake like rocks, and eventually made the blue water turn red. Then, mammals and reptiles came out of the forest and made their way toward the lake. They were clearly in distress, and making their way into the water almost like a procession. They submerged themselves in the red pool, thereby making the water more bloody than it was previously.

During the onslaught of death, Wilson felt a hand on his shoulder (as much as you could feel in a dream). Wilson looked to see a human hand, and when he looked higher, he saw a bearded figure with a faded Yankees baseball cap and a dusty military jacket draped around his shoulders. After a few seconds of staring the man looked down on Wilson with dark eyes that matched his own.

"Hey Jimmy. Long time no see."

Wilson gulped at the sight of his brother David looking down on him. He looked exactly like he did when he last saw him more than twelve years ago.

Wilson could not speak. He just watched as David turned his face back out to the lake, which was now bubbling. Wilson could see something moving underneath it.

"It is fed by death, Jimmy," David said. "It loves it. When it's out of reach, pain is a substitute. Since there is a whole lot more pain than there is death, he makes due. However, he craves for death. He loves the taste far too much to just settle for pain for very long. So, he used the pain to create anger. It has been said that a man who is angry at his brother commits murder in his heart, and sometimes that it enough. But, sometimes it is not, and he escalates the anger to the point where death is the only possible outcome."

"What are you talking about?" Wilson finally asked, his eyes still glued to the lake. "You're not making any sense."

"I thought I would give you a little warning before I couldn't anymore."

"What are you talking about?!" Wilson repeated, louder this time.

David hung his head, gripping harder onto Wilson's shoulder.

"Never make a deal with the devil, Little Brother, no matter how badly you want something."

Wilson was desperate to ask more, but a loud noise from the direction of the lake grabbed his attention. When the great black figure began to emerge from the water, he woke up.

He was back in his bare apartment, on his couch. His stomach was so agitated that it made

him run to the bathroom and throw up the small fast-food dinner that he had earlier.

After he wiped his mouth of the vomit, Wilson's thoughts immediately drifted back to the carnage and horrible images from his dream – or nightmare as it should be called. He had never had a dream such as that. Losing Amber must have done some screwy things to his mind. His brother was not an infrequent visitor to his dreams, but he usually came in the form of a memory or a "what-if" situation. This was certainly a change.

Despite many Freudian questions he had flying around in his brain, Wilson did not want to think about the dream anymore. He never believed that dreams were anything more than windows into your subconscious, and if that was what was lying beneath his ego, then he was much more screwed up than he thought.

Wilson dragged himself into his bedroom, but was waking up every minute or so when he felt himself drifting into the paralysis of dreamland. He ended up putting his iPod in his ears so that 

he would not go far enough into his sleep cycle to have this happen. Unfortunately, when you kept yourself out of REM, you were damning yourself to a horrible night's sleep.

oOoOo

Wilson woke up with barely enough sleep under his belt. However, his desire to go to work outran any tiredness he might have felt. He certainly did not want to face those he worked with, but he needed this.

Wilson got into almost three crashes on the drive over, which was more than he had experienced since he got his license. His distraction was palpable, and his anxiety was too high to be healthy. There was no reason for him to be this emotional about going back to work. He was not nearly this upset after he came back the first time. He was a little worried about facing House, but that was about it. Right now, he felt a sense of unabating fear and trepidation.

Wilson was not sure what he was so afraid of. He was concerned about Cuddy forcing him to take more time off. He was afraid of seeing House. He wanted nothing more than to curl up into a corner until the damn beast decided to stop making his life a living hell.

When he finally pulled into the hospital, he attempted to push these fears aside. He already looked like an insomniac. He did not want to add mental patient to the list. He sat in the car for about five minutes to try some breathing exercises he remembered from prior attempts at a yoga regimen. He made a note to himself to try and start going to Dr. Iverson again, but right now, he needed to just get through this day. Before he could stop himself, he was out of his car and at the lobby entrance.

Almost as soon as Wilson walked into the busy hospital, he was met with a shower of affection from everyone who he had even slight interactions with. In a way, it made him feel good, but part of him knew that these people were either being polite or showering him with pity. Damn House and his stupid philosophies!

This knowledge was doing nothing for the growing knot that was not abating its presence. Wilson was now to the point of treating it like a living entity, because that's what he felt it was acting like.

Getting to the fourth floor hallway had felt like trudging through the mud, but once he got there, he felt much safer. Still he quickened his pace in order to reach his destination without any more obstacles standing in his way.

"Dr. Wilson?" he heard behind him. This was yet another person to outrun in his futile attempts to get to his office. It sounded like a woman, too, which was always so much worse. He silently prayed she was not single.

"Dr. Wilson. It's Cate Milton!"

Wilson stopped in his tracks as he heard what she said. It had certainly been a while since he had heard that name, or that voice. He had been vaguely familiar with the doctor before she had become House's patient. Now, he associated her with Amber. She was the one who House was treating when he was trying to figure out who Wilson was dating. For some reason, that was the only thought that came to mind when he heard the voice of Dr. Milton.

"Dr. Wilson," Cate said, almost panting as she put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm glad I caught you."

Wilson quickly turned to face the woman, who definitely looked like she was in better shape than when he last saw her. At the time, her kidneys were failing, so that was understandable. She still had that same smile on her face, the one that had probably enamored House so much. It was a genuine smile, and one that was not put on or fake.

"H-hi, Dr. Milton," Wilson finally said. "I didn't know you were back."

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that in the past week," Cate laughed. "Apparently you went on an adventure yourself."

God, this woman was cheerful, Wilson thought. At least everyone else had the decency to act somewhat subdued. She must just be happy to be back where she can step out into the sun without freezing. She must also be happy with that Sean character. Love does those kinds of things to people. It makes them happy and slightly oblivious. This conversation was less than one minute old and he was already feeling the urge to run and hide.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Milton…"

"Cate."

"…but I really have a lot of catching up to do. I've been gone two weeks after all."

Cate sighed and nodded. "I understand. I just wanted to see how you were doing, that's all."

"I don't need your services if that's what you're wondering."

"Hey, do you see me dragging my big couch behind me? I was just hoping to see you for myself. I mean, if you ever do want to talk, I'm available, but I don't want to pry."

"No offense, Cate," Wilson said, praying this woman who brought back so many memories would just go away. "But I don't really know you."

"You earned my concern when you helped save my life."

Wilson nodded and hung his head. He had certainly heard that before, but never at a time when he didn't actually deserve it, like now.

"Why exactly are you here, Cate? I thought you worked at the college. I hope you didn't come 

all the way here just to see me."

Cate shook her head. "I didn't. I came here to see…someone else, and then ran into you. I figured I would ask you how you were doing."

"I'm fine, and thanks for the concern, but I really have to get to my office and play catch-up. It was nice seeing you again."

Wilson did not wait for a reply when he practically darted down the one-hundred feet in between him and his office door. When he finally made it, he shoved his key into the lock and ran inside just in case someone else decided to shower their fake pity on them. It was certainly a surprise to see Cate again, but she was just like all of the others. She might be even worse due to her profession. He did not really care if he was a little too obvious with the fact that he wanted out of the situation. She would live.

Wilson dropped his briefcase on his desk before he collapsed into his soft office chair. He ran his hands through his hair and began to worry how he was going to do this. He could not even handle his colleagues' company. How was he going to handle patients?

Wilson preferred not to dwell on that lest he make the beast within him cause physical pain. He got up and folded his hands behind his head. He walked over to the glass door that separated him from the outside, and was tempted to go out onto the balcony and take in some fresh air. However, the prospect of running into House was enough to keep him inside. All he did was watch the other man at his desk and pray that he would not look his way.

House was reading something that looked like a journal. It could also have been a gossip magazine, but the drab colors convinced Wilson of the former. The man did not look like he was in a great deal of pain, or that he was in some sort of self-destructive kick. He looked completely neutral, something that the man had not been as of late.

Wilson took a sigh of relief from the sight before him. He and Cuddy had a conversation before he left about how House needed him. It was nothing new, but that prospect scared him, because even if he might have needed House before, he did not think he did anymore. If House still needed him, they had a problem. Now, it seemed that the other man was surviving without him. This could have been an opportunity to finally push the man out of his life, mostly so the beast could not grow any further.

Wilson was about to turn away when he saw House perk up and look toward the front door of the office. He had an odd expression on his face. It was one of terror and surprise and…happiness?

House was leaning back now, and Wilson was more curious than ever, at least until he saw a sliver of another face. It was clearly a woman. Was it Cameron? No, Cameron was more petite than that. As mysterious woman came around the desk he finally saw that it was Cate Milton, the woman whom he had run into not three minutes ago. Why was she in to see House? He did save her life, but no one willingly saw House unless there was an underlying reason.

Why was he acting like an idiot? It was obvious why she was going to see House. It was confirmed when Cate delivered a kiss to some part of House's face before House got up and followed her out of Wilson's view.

Wilson felt electricity through his entire body. The fact that it seemed to originate from his stomach did not help matters. Wilson clenched his fists as he walked over to his desk before collapsing into the chair. Wilson gripped the table and began to feel and surge of pure anger directed toward his glass balcony door. Why was House doing this to Cate? The woman clearly did not know that any association with House would only cause pain. How could House get into a relationship? House was scared to death of relationships. Why now? Why after Wilson lost the woman he loved? Why…?

Without thinking, Wilson threw one of the random trinkets on his shelf toward the glass door. He missed the door, but hit the wall, leaving a nasty dent in the plaster and breaking his retro Mickey Mouse statue in half. All Wilson wanted to do was run away, but something inside of him told him that if he ran away, than this problem would never be solved.

If anything was to get back to normal, this had to stop.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Okay, folks. Being a senior in college is getting harder than I thought it would be. Getting into grad school is becoming priority number one now, and you all know what that means. I will try my absolute hardest to get updates up regularly, but it's not going to be easy. Thanks for the support!!_

Chapter 4: When Did My Heart Get So Petrified?

"You cannot be serious?" House asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

"Why is it so hard to believe my favorite movie is _Se7en_? Is it your favorite movie, too?"

"No," House said, trying to drown out the noise of the busy cafeteria. "I liked it, but…it doesn't seem like your type of movie."

"Greg, this is the third date," Cate said resting her chin on a propped palm. "I seriously doubt you know my type of movie yet."

House looked around where they were. "Are you honestly considering this a date?"

"Why shouldn't it be? We're talking. We're eating."

"We're in view of all our colleagues. It's a little difficult to get romantic while you're at work."

"Why Greg," Cate said, raising her eyebrows. "Since when do you care what your coworkers think?"

House sighed. "Since I heard a rumor that Wilson's back. Of course he is on the first day we decide to go public. With any luck, it's not true."

"Well…it is."

House furrowed his brow, asking a silent question.

"I ran into him this morning."

House leaned in toward her. "And you neglected to tell me…why?"

"Because he was acting like any social interaction would turn him into a pumpkin. I figured the minute you found out he was back you would be in his office trying to get what he got out of his mountain adventure. Either that or taunting him about it."

House averting his gaze toward his food. "Things have changed."

Cate was curious now. "How so? Wait, don't answer that. I have a better question. Why don't you want him to see us together?"

House sighed. "Would you want to see the man who killed your girlfriend finding someone while you're still alone?"

"Well, no, since I'm not a lesbian."

House ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It's not as fun when you're the one receiving snark in serious situations, is it?"

House was about to reply when he saw Cate become distracted by something behind him. He turned to see what it was and saw Wilson walking into the cafeteria.

"Speak of the devil," House mumbled to himself, suddenly becoming curious over his friend's appearance. Two weeks alone in the mountains did nothing for the man. If anything, it made him worse. He was becoming neglectful of his appearance, something House never thought possible. Hair was not combed. Shirt was not ironed. Chin had a thin layer of stubble. Eyes drooped from lack of sleep. Wilson looked even more miserable than before.

"Oh my God," House mumbled with exasperation. "What did that idiot do to himself?"

"Beat his psyche into oblivion?"

"No," House said, pursing his lips. "He's not self-loathing. There's only one person he blames for what happened to his girlfriend."

"Greg," Cate said, putting on her best compassionate voice. "By now, he should have come to his senses…"

"_Should _being the key word there. It doesn't mean he did. His girlfriend _did _die after all. Grief does things to people."

"Yeah, but it shouldn't change your whole personality.'

"There's the word 'should' again. Not everything can be a typical case."

"I _know_ that. You practically make your job out of atypical cases, but that doesn't mean I can't point out something off."

"Well, all we're going off right now is his appearance…"

"…and my encounter with him this morning."

"Are you guys talking about me?"

House turned his head and his field of vision became limited to Wilson's stomach. He could have kicked himself for not noticing Wilson's pace across the crowded dining room, and for not stopping his conversation at the right time. He had actually never been in a situation like this before in which he was the one talking about Wilson behind his back. It was usually Wilson doing such a thing to him, and being much better at it. It was not like House had anyone to talk to about the man before Cate came along. There was Cuddy, but real conversations with her about anything, let alone Wilson, were few and far between.

"Always," House raising his eyebrows and making a show out of looking the other man over. "You know, usually when you go camping, you sleep _inside_ the tent."

"It was a camper, House," Wilson replied, crossing his arms. "It's nice to see you, too."

"I'm guessing self-discovery doesn't include sleep," House said. "You look like crap."

"Wow, House, it's almost like you're showing concern or something. Should I alert the media? Maybe the marines? They should be informed that the apocalypse is on its way."

House did not respond. The comment did sound like Wilson to a point, but there was something different that he did not notice before the trip. Wilson's tone had some malice in it. Wilson obviously had not worked out the ill feelings toward his friend. House would have been foolish to expect otherwise, but he had to admit there was a small bit of hope that a miracle would occur. That was one of the things about new relationships. They somehow made you more optimistic than necessary.

"Well, when he does show concern," Cate chimed in. "It is pretty profound, don't you think?"

House looked over in confusion at Cate, whose mouth had enclosed around a straw. Still, he could tell she was picking apart the bizarre relationship between him and Wilson in her mind.

"Dr. Milton," Wilson said, turning to the woman. House's stomach dropped when his tone changed to that of a very convincing police interrogator.

"Are you and House…catching up?"

Oh Lord. This is bad, thought House. He does not sound thrilled.

"Actually…" Cate said, turning to House.

"I'm doing her," House blurted out, earning wide eyes from Cate.

Wilson furrowed his brow and looked at his friend. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know," House said, beginning to wonder why his resolve from earlier had so easily faded. "Why would I have lunch with _anyone _unless I'm doing them? Present male company excluded of course."

Cate put her face in her hand. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at an alarming rate. "He's not 'doing' me. This is just our third date."

"Which means the 'doing' is coming soon."

Cate looked up at House with an annoyed look.

"At this rate, you'll be getting nothing until you move into the retirement home."

House took the hint, but he felt like he could not stop now. However, he cautioned a look at Wilson's face, and he looked hurt. House's stomach fell immediately. He felt like scum, which was a not an unfamiliar feeling after these past few months. Of course, the feeling had now reached new depths.

"Well," Wilson said, shrugging. "I always thought you would make a good couple. Cate, did you know that while House was treating you, he was pretty much stalking me to find out if I had a new girlfriend? Do you know what he discovered?"

By the end of his statement, it was clear the man was teetering on the edge of getting hysterical. Cate stole an angry glance toward House before saying, "That you were dating Amber?"

Wilson nodded, seeming slightly disappointed that she already knew. That was a bit of guilt he would not have the pleasure of inflicting.

"I…well, I'm glad you two are…doing well," Wilson said in a melancholy tone. "See you later."

Wilson promptly left their table and practically sprinted out the door.

"Nicely played," Cate said to House, sounding a bit too much like Cuddy in her sarcasm.

House rubbed his face with one hand before covering his eyes.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"Apparently not," House said with his eyes still buried in his palm.

"All that concern. All of that worry you had when he walked in. What happened to that?"

"It's still there, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"I…that's what we do, Cate. We banter. It's how we function in our screwed-up twisted relationship."

"Well, don't you think those dynamics have changed somewhat? I mean, at least they should."

"There's that word again. _Should_. There are a lot of things that _should _happen in this world that don't. That's life."

"Don't you think I know that?" Cate said in a harsh whisper, realizing their conversation was gaining more volume by the second. "I'm just saying. I don't want him to be upset about this…thing we have. It'd not healthy for him and I don't want to add on any more complications than there already are."

"So…you want Wilson to be healthy because it works better for us?"

Cate sighed and sat back in the chair. "That's not what I meant, Greg, and you know it. He just can't get pissed off every time he sees one of his friends happy."

"This particular friend destroyed his one chance at happiness. I'd be pissed, too."

Cate shook her head in disbelief at the man's words.

"Okay, I'm going to ignore all that is tragic about that statement and move on to practicality. His _one _chance at happiness? The man's been married three times for god's sake! He's had plenty of chances and blown them all."

"She was perfect," House whispered, joining Cate in her tone. "She was the perfect woman for him. She made him feel like he was somebody. I knew from the get-go she was special, which was why I was so…" House stopped, grinding his teeth in frustration at not having the guts to get his words out in the open.

Cate watched House with sad eyes. The guilt was clearly tearing him apart. However, any comfort at this juncture would only be rejected. She had to convince him the only way he could be: with reason.

"He dated her for four months," Cate said slower and calmer than before. "That is nowhere near enough time to establish that kind of binding love, at least…most of the time."

"This was different."

"Or the same."

House finally looked up at her. "Same as what?"

"Strictly from what I hear about him, Wilson has a habit of falling hard and fast in love. People like that are usually the ones who get divorced a lot, because they become discouraged when the high wears off and their stuck having to deal with _real _love. They then realize it was never there to begin with..."

"Cate, please stop," House groaned. "This is not a good conversation for the third date."

Cate was about to protest, but then backed down. House was right. It was only a matter of time before the conversation became awkward. She did not want to be that kind of girl.

"One quick question, though," House said.

"Sure," Cate replied with trepidation.

"Why do you think Wilson is so torn up about this if their love wasn't real?"

"I'm not saying he wasn't deeply in love with her. He obviously thought what you thought, that this could be his chance. He was watching a woman he was in love with and was his only chance at happiness slip away in one fell swoop. The fact that you were involved makes an almost literary argument for you to be pushed out of his life."

"Literary argument?"

Cate sighed. "Don't you dare laugh, but it is like something almost symbolic that you were involved in her death. You might not have been responsible, but you were involved. It was almost like everything in his life that goes wrong involves you somehow."

"How is that literary?"

Cate tilted her head. "You're not denying it?"

"Denying what?"

"That everything in Wilson's life that goes wrong involves you, because there is no way that's true."

"You'd be surprised."

Cate groaned in frustration as she finished off the last of her salad.

"I hate psychology," House growled.

"Yeah, me too."

House raised his eyebrows at that statement.

"I mean, life would be a whole lot easier if we were like the animal kingdom and just lived for eating, sleeping and having sex, but unfortunately, things have to be a whole lot more complicated for us humans."

"I guess so," House said. He could not really argue with that one. "If you look at psychology, though, it really is no different than that of the animals."

Cate furrowed her brow. "You don't know anything about it. What makes you say that?"

"I've dealt with enough people to know that everybody lies, and mostly for reasons having to with basic animal instincts, mostly sex."

"Well, that's a nice theory. Too bad you're wrong."

House was taken aback by Cate's bluntness.

"Take it from someone who actually _studies _psychology, you're wrong, and someday, I'm going to prove it to you."

oOoOo

Wilson left the empty dining room very relieved that the beast had abated some. However, he felt foolish for putting on the pathetic face for Cate and House. He got a sudden flashback to high school when he confronted a girl who rejected him after he asked her to the prom. He tried to make her feel guilty, but it only made him look like an idiot. His popularity kept him afloat in the social realm until graduation, but he still felt like an ass for taking advantage of her.

Now he was back using tactics he abandoned once he hit eighteen. He did not know why he was stooping to such levels. It did fulfill its intended purpose, and then some. Cate looked pissed when he left. This was hopefully the beginning of her seeing the real Greg House. Whatever she sees in him has to be based on a façade. However, the idea that he was trying to mess up what could be a great opportunity for House made him feel some trepidation.

Once Wilson got back to the door of his office, he did feel something else eating at his insides. He felt genuine guilt. He really needed to look at this like a grown-up. Why was he doing this? Was he still in deep grief over Amber? Was he mad at House? Did he somehow think that House did this out of malice? Maybe he was feeling the same way House felt when he was with Amber. Maybe he was afraid he would lose House to this woman.

He dismissed the last thought immediately. Unlike House, he was able to grasp that you could have a friend and a girlfriend at the same time. Plus, their friendship had been balancing on the razor's edge lately, so it was irrational to mourn for something that was already all but lost.

As he entered his office, he looked at the broken figurine on the floor and allowed a shudder to go up and down his spine. What was he turning into? This was not normal for him. He never lashed out like this. He has never so much as thrown a punch, let alone thrown things. Sure, he has often felt like it (House tended to have that effect), but he never went through with it. Now, there were some new thoughts in his head, ones he would prefer not to entertain any longer.

Wilson once again found himself rocking in his desk chair and rubbing his temples with his fingers. He should not have gone to the cafeteria. He did not know what possessed him to do that. He should be applauding this. For one thing, House has a chance at happiness, and for another, Wilson might be rid of him for long enough to clear his mind. Maybe this was their chance to rekindle the friendship. If you get House in a good enough mood, then anything is possible.

Wilson sighed and put his hands behind his head. He was feeling better. The sun was shining outside, and the beams were streaming through the window to illuminate the room. It was beautiful. He thought that a walk outside later would not be such a bad idea.

With the beginnings of a smile on his face, Wilson fell asleep.


End file.
